Dear Lila,
You never mentioned how challenging adulthood would be!
I recently unearthed the letters you penned to me over the years, written in your delicate fairy script. Don’t worry, I’ve stored them safely in a heart-shaped box filled with all the little treasures I insisted my mom keep. Those tiny letters hold a special place in my heart, and I believe they have played a significant role in shaping who I am.
You began writing to me when I was around 7 or 8. My friend Mia had a fairy named Starshine, who I met during a sleepover, and that’s when I discovered I had my own special fairy too. So, I reached out to you, inviting you to be my friend.
You responded almost instantly and introduced yourself as Lila.
We exchanged letters for years. I would leave you notes by my bedside, and while I danced in my dreams, you would sneak in to leave your own little messages. You arrived whenever I expressed my feelings—whether I was happy, sad, angry, or confused. You were never late and often left me small gifts, like shimmering earrings for your “Shining Star.”
You inquired about my family, as if you already knew everything about us. You taught me the importance of keeping my space tidy, the joy of sharing, and the value of being kind to my little brother: “Try not to ever resent him. Having a brother is a treasure.”
You were spot-on about that, Lila. In the blink of an eye, he transformed into a wonderful man—kind, intelligent, and protective. He shaves, carries a briefcase, and earns his own paycheck. Whenever I need him, he’s just a phone call away, ready to listen and help.
You were clever, Lila, subtly guiding me to say kind things to my parents: “It makes them happy! They put in so much effort for you.” Time and again, you reminded me, “Always remember to smile!”—as if you could foresee my future tears.
“Don’t forget, keep smiling and the world will smile back at you!” I don’t know, Lila. Sometimes it feels like the world forgets to smile. Perhaps you left that part out on purpose.
The day arrived when you told me it was time for you to leave, to fly on to another little girl who needed you more. I hope you are with someone special who can benefit from your magic during her dark nights. You once mentioned you were late because you were busy helping sick children. I hope that’s still true, and that you’re teaching them they are never alone in this daunting world.
You mentioned that girls my age often only write when they need advice.
“Do you need some guidance?” Yes, Lila, I do need your advice.
“I’ve been searching for you. Why and when did you move?”
I’m right here. I grew up, learned to drive, attended college, started my first job, began paying bills, and moved far from home. I realize it’s tricky to find me now, thousands of miles away from my childhood, but I promise, I’m still here.
I transitioned through life year by year, decision by decision. Why? Because you encouraged me to grow up and learn to smile.
Every now and then, you showed me how to help my friends believe in the magic of you, something so tiny and invisible. You told me to wear the locket you gifted me as a token to show those who doubted that you were real. You encouraged me to keep your letters safe, reminding me that all those little notes contained life’s beautiful lessons.
I’ve safeguarded them, Lila. They are precious stories that I vow to share with the next little girl who needs them.
I’m reaching out now, even though you advised me years ago that I was too old. I’m writing because I want to see if you’re still out there. If this note finds you, will you please let me know? The world has introduced me to other things and people that didn’t respond as quickly as you always did. They weren’t there when I cried.
This adulthood, well, it’s tougher than you ever prepared me for.
And, Lila, one last thing—I forgot to say thank you.
Even if you didn’t warn me about how challenging this life journey would be, I know you did your best to prepare me for the winding and bumpy road ahead. You were always there, answered my tear-stained notes, and loved me in ways both small and grand.